


Demons Don't Sleep At 2AM

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: It's a simple game, really. All Bakura has to do is guess Malik's kink and then he gets to try it out on his old partner, but why did Malik suddenly decide to play?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The things I look up for fanfiction (bwahaha) the two porn names in the beginning are real, and I looked up a few different lists of kinks and fetishes for the guessing game (and the site they're reading from at the beginning was one of the lists). 
> 
> This was Nocturnal Knock's prompt from the fanfic dirty santa. It unfortunately got orphaned, so I adopted it. Prompt was: "I found this bottle of massage oil in your room, so..." Includes: erotic back massages for Marik, body worship, love bites, roughness, after care
> 
> I was going to post this tomorrow, but I'll be out of town Saturday, so I decided to post it a day early.

Bakura bit his bottom lip as he stared at his computer screen. He typed in “porn” and hit enter, clicking on the first site he saw. He wrinkled his nose at the first page (T&A T&A T&A and Bakura was only into the A). Bakura skipped down to the category list. His mouse hovered over “anal” but he noticed the thumbnail was of a female taking it in the ass, so he rushed the cursor over to “gay” and clicked. “Holes 4 Seeds” did not look particularly appealing, and Bakura groaned in disgust at the “Gettin’ Bred To Ecstasy By A Big Redbearded Dude” title. 

Before Bakura could scroll down further, someone started pounding at his front door. He glared at the door for a solid twenty seconds, but pushed himself up and trudged toward it when they didn’t stop. 

“What the fuck do you want?” Bakura demanded as he flung opened the door, adding, “Heh, it’s you.”

Malik Ishtar stood at the door. He wore black sweats and a white hoodie. His gold hair was twisted into a knot on the crown of his head. 

“You’re not wearing your earrings,” Bakura said.

“Huh?” Malik frowned at Bakura. 

“You’re not wearing your earrings. Sometimes you don’t wear the rest, but I’ve never seen you without those damn earrings. Or kohl. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you sick or something?”

“No. Not sick. It’s just late. Let me in.” 

“Why?” 

“Because that’s what you fucking do when someone knocks on your door, asshole. You let them in.”

“That sounds like vampire propaganda to me.” 

“You’ve been hanging out with Ryou too much.” 

“Whatever. Wipe your feet, I’m trying to keep this place tidy.”

“You don’t have a fucking welcome mat, I’m taking off my shoes, and I don’t even think you own a vacuum, let alone use it.” Malik pushed through the doorway and shut the door himself. He wore flip flops and he kicked them off of his feet and into the basket Bakura had by the door. 

“I vacuumed… once. It’s not that messy in here.” 

“Not really. Your plants look like they’re dying though.” Malik looked around the apartment.

“Ryou’s plants. I told him I’d end up killing them, but he insisted they’d be good for me.” 

“You’re hopeless.” 

Malik disappeared into the kitchen. Bakura heard the faucet hiss, and a moment later Malik returned with a glass full of water. He strolled to each plant, pouring a portion of the glass into each pot. The last one was some ivy sitting on Bakura’s computer desk. 

“Could you at least close your fucking porn before opening the door?” Malik sneered at the screen. “ _Gettin’ bred_ , huh? Is that what you’re into?” 

“Yes, you see, I have particular tastes. I can’t seem to get off unless I’m pretending to be a horse. I like being fed apples and getting smacked on the side with a riding crop.” 

“I suppose there are weirder fetishes.” 

“Are there? We could do a quick internet search on what they are. Maybe there’s something I’ve been missing out on.” 

“Well, let’s see.” Malik sat down in Bakura’s chair, clicked on a new tab, and typed _weirdest fetishes._

Bakura hunched over Malik’s shoulder as Malik clicked a link to eight--supposedly true--strange fetishes. 

“Here we have Dendrophilia, which is being aroused by trees.”

“Ah yes, mother nature. The first MILF.” Bakura nodded as if everyone knew about dendrophilio-whatever the fuck Malik had just read. 

“Mucophilia, being aroused by sneezing.”

“God bless them.”

“Avisodomy, which is like beastiality but with birds.”

“Oh man, I know some people drawing onto tomb walls that were into that shit.”

Malik snorted and read on. “Electricity, and-”

“No, wait, scroll up. I want to read that part.” Bakura leaned forward. “First time they heard about it they were shocked.” Bakura laughed at the pun in the article. “But 80,000 yen per toy? Who could afford that? Next!” 

“So is _that_ why you jumped in the way of Slifer’s attack during Battle City? Couldn’t pass up your kink?”

“Well, if I was going to get fucked by the Pharaoh, I might as well have enjoyed myself.” Bakura rolled his eyes. 

“So you like to bottom for powerful kings? Noted.” Malik smirked. 

“As much as I like to be _bred_ , sure.” Bakura grabbed the empty water glass and put it in the half-loaded dishwasher.

“Get back here. I’m not done with the list,” Malik ordered. 

“Is that your real fetish? Reading off lists to people who don’t really give a fuck?”

“Yes, now come, sit, and stay.”

“I said I wanted to be a horse, not a dog.” Bakura clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He scratched his scalp, white hair dancing about his face as he shook his head. “Besides, I’m tired.”

“No you’re not. You’re the very essence of darkness and the night is yours. Get back over here and read the naughty list with me. The next one is oculolinctus.”

“What’s that?” Bakura found himself leaning back over Malik again, although he hadn’t wanted to. 

“It’s--what the fuck--licking eyeballs? Is this for real?” 

Bakura threw his head back in laughter. 

“Yeah, you _would_ think it’s funny.”

“I bet your darker half was into that one!”

“Absolutely not. I can assure you, that is not a desire I ever repressed.” 

“But killing Baldy was?”

“Bakura.” Malik’s face crumpled. “I don’t want to talk about that.” 

The change from smug prick, to broken was so sudden and authentic that it knocked Bakura off balance. Had it been anyone else, Bakura might have sneered, but something about Malik’s expression made him want to cup Malik’s cheeks and brush the pad of his thumb against the corner of Malik’s mouth until he could coax a smile back onto his face. A strange impulse that Bakura squashed the moment it tried to form in his imagination. 

“Look.” Bakura tapped the screen. “Emetophilia. Doesn’t that one just make you sick to your stomach?” 

“Ew, not funny.” 

“Yeah, guess I shouldn’t hurl jokes at people’s fetishes. How rude of me for making a mess like that. I should really throw up- ooops, I mean grow up.”

“Had you really wanted to defeat Atem, you should have just done stand-up in the middle of your duels. He would have forfeited to shut you up.”

“Don’t-” Bakura grit his teeth, eyes screwed shut and hand fisted. 

“Don’t worry, Bakura. You’re jokes really aren’t _that_ bad.”

“I don’t fucking care about the puns.” Bakura’s chest felt like a rod was impaling him through the heart, perhaps The Rod since Malik had been the one to wield it. “Don't even say that cursed fucking name around me again.”

“Oh…” Malik’s voice trailed off. 

“Bad enough I failed at giving that bastard the second fucking death like he _deserved_ , but I won’t have you preserving his _ren_ in my house.” 

“Yes, you’re right,” Malik said, his voice quiet, almost far off. He turned toward the computer. “Mechanophilia is sexual attraction to machines, specifically cars. I mean, I love motorcycles, but maybe not quite that much.” Malik forced a laugh in a vain attempt to break up the tension between them. 

“That’s not even a pun.” Bakura held a breath, and then exhaled to give himself something to do other than smash the furniture. His mind thought for a moment, going through various car puns, but he couldn’t really think. Hearing _that name_ had made the blood rush to his head in fury and allowed the beginning of a migraine to prick behind his temples. “You gotta say something about wanting to stick it in a tailpipe or using your dipstick to check the oil levels.”

“What’s the matter Bakura, does this kink not rev up your engines?”

“Okay, that one was good,” Bakura confessed and he managed to put the smile onto Malik’s face that he wanted to give him earlier. “What’s the last one?” 

“Formicophilia. Insects.”

“Hah! Bet you twenty thousand yen that Haga has that one.”

“Who?” Malik asked.

“A duelist.” Bakura shook his head. He almost asked what rock Malik had been living under to not have heard of Insector Haga- but then he remembered who he was talking to and decided, for once in his long, cursed life, to keep his mouth shut.

“So…” Malik swiveled to face Bakura, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “The horse thing was a joke.” 

“Figured that out, did you? Was it the lack of saddles and hay in the apartment?”

“But do you have any actual kinks?” Malik’s smirk returned. 

“I don’t know.” Bakura shrugged, thinking. He didn’t mind the question, the intrusiveness of it. If anything, he wished he had some wild story to tell, if for no other reason than to see Malik’s reaction. “Ring didn’t have wifi, so I couldn’t really do any research. Not that the internet is much better. You can close that porn site window by the way. Can’t really get interested in any of them while someone that looks like you is in the room.”

“Are you flattering me?” Malik arched an eyebrow. 

“I’m not above it, but in this case I was speaking plainly. What about you? Have any fantasies you want to play out?”

“Hmmm.” Malik leaned back in the chair. He caged the tips of his fingers together. “I have one in particular.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Bakura asked. 

“Bakura, Bakura, Bakura… why should I simply _tell_ you what it is?”

“It’s arguing with me. Isn’t it? That’s your secret kink.” 

“A close second.” Malik blew Bakura a mocking kiss. “How about we make a game of this?”

“I like games.”

“Here are the rules. You guess what my _special turn on_ is, and if you guess correctly… I’ll let you do it to me.” 

Bakura’s stomach hitched. His heart jerked in his chest as if it hadn’t really been beating before and something about the way Malik was looking at him had caused it to start for the first time. Even in a hoodie, even with his hair up, even without the markings that made his stare _so intense_ , Bakura wanted to touch him. Touch his skin, his hair, his face, touch everything, touch him until he was sighing and arching toward Bakura’s fingertips. He wanted to touch all of Malik, all of him, acquaint his fingers with the entirety of him. Bakura licked his lips as his thoughts searched through the narrow list of kinks that he knew about. 

“Bondage?”

“Absolutely not and you should know better.” 

“Mirrors?”

“Are you projecting on me? You’re the only one I know so vain that he’d want to watch himself get fucked.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no if the right person offered.” Bakura stood up, pacing. “Pantyhose and heels.” 

“No, but feel free if you ever want to feel pretty.” 

“Sex in public.”

“Nope.” 

“Spanking.”

“Nope.”

“Ugh, fuck…”

“Already out of ideas?” Malik chuckled.

“Give me a moment.”

“This is getting dull. You have one more guess before I go sit on the couch and find a movie to play.” 

“Exhibition.” 

“Sorry, ‘Kura.” Malik laughed as he stood up and changed location. “Maybe next time you’ll have better luck.”

“Dammit.” 

He was going to look up every fetish known to man, woman, or anyone in between, and then- whatever the fuck the right one ended up being- he was going to do the hell out of it to Malik. He bit the inside of his cheek, hard from thoughts alone. Bakura went into the kitchen to distract himself and calm down. He microwaved a bag of popcorn, needing an excuse to gnash his teeth against something, and brought it back to the couch with two bottles of fridge-cold beer. 

“You know, the decor isn’t the best, but I can’t complain about the service.” Malik grinned as he took a sip from his beer bottle. 

“The decor is superb. I can’t help it if your tastes need refining.” Bakura turned up his nose.

“It looks like a game shop in here. You might as well go marry Yugi and live with him.” 

“I don’t think I could keep up with _his_ kink list. I’ve heard some wild stories.” 

Malik laughed, starting in on the popcorn. The contrast between hot, salted popcorn and cold, cold beer was pleasant, and so was sitting beside Malik. Although, if someone would have walked in and asked Bakura what movie they were watching, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer. It was about ghosts, and that was as much as Bakura gathered. He kept staring at Malik out of the corner of his vision. Watching Malik’s lips seal around the neck of his beer bottle was a sight to behold. They reached for the popcorn at the same time, fingers bumping together, and jerked away, each of them looking in the opposite direction.

“Go ahead,” Bakura muttered.

“Okay.” Malik grabbed a handful. 

Bakura laughed.

“What?” Malik asked with a full mouth. 

“Anyone else would have insisted I go first, but you just went for it.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” Malik stole another handful. 

“It’s not that… it’s just what people do. Actually, I hate it.”

“Good, because I have no intention of learning social cueing at 3am.” 

“You don’t want to attend Bakura’s School of Charm and Grace? We can put a book on your head and work on your posture.” 

“What would you make me do? Play an entire card game without dropping the book?”

“Yes. Posture is _important_ during a duel.” Their hands brushed at the popcorn bag again. Bakura jerked away again. “Guess I should have put it in a bowl.” 

“Here, I suppose it’s your turn to go first.” Malik grabbed a large handful and shoved it at Bakura’s mouth.

Bakura backed away from the wad of popcorn, but Malik persisted. He opened his mouth to take in as much as Malik could cram forward. They laughed as stray pieces tumbled down to the floor. Bakura threw a kernel at Malik’s face. He dodged and shoved the other half of the handful into his own mouth. 

“I need more.” Bakura opened his mouth and pointed to show that it was empty. 

“You look like a baby bird.” Malik tossed a kernel at Bakura, missing Bakura’s mouth. Malik laughed and tried again. It took him four tries, but when he made it, they punched their fists in the air in victory. 

They turned their faces toward the television again, focusing on the movie once more. The third time their hands smacked together in the popcorn bag, they fought for who could grab more and then pushed popcorn into each other’s mouth, both laughing. After they ate all the popcorn and finished their beer, they sat- a little closer than where they had started- and finished the show. Bakura’s eyes kept sliding shut. The woman screaming on the screen wasn’t enough to keep him awake. The wailing, tormented sounds of the dead had been his lullabies growing up. If anything, that might have been the reason Bakura fell asleep. 

He woke up late the next morning, and could tell right away that the weight on his lap was Malik. His eyes opened. He saw a dozen pikachus dancing on the TV screen for some odd vending machine commercial, and Malik curled up on his lap. He reached out, yearning to touch Malik’s face, but instead Bakura dropped his hand to his side. 

“Oi, oi, wake up, you pest.”

“Comfortable,” Malik whined, nuzzling deeper into Bakura’s lap. 

“Don’t you have… a life or something to get back to?”

“Why? Am I interrupting your busy schedule?” 

“Nah, but I need to piss.” 

“Fine, waking up.” Marik pushed himself up. 

He tugged at his bun, growling when the tie tangled into his hair. By the time he managed to pull it free, his hair was so mussed that he looked like his darkness was half returned. 

“Beautiful.” Bakura roughed up Malik’s hair a little more.

“Stop laughing, you asshole.” Malik pulled Bakura’s hands out of his hair and glared at him.

“Make me.” Bakura stood up and wandered to the toilet. 

He pissed, and brushed his teeth because the late night snack had left them feeling furry. He found Malik in the kitchen glaring at Bakura’s instant coffee like it had just insulted his mother. 

“Where’s the real coffee?”

“That’s what I have.”

“Why would you drink this? It’s not the same.” 

“It has the same amount of caffeine.” 

Malik groaned and put the kettle on to boil water. He opened up Bakura’s fridge and his sour face twisted. “There’s no food in here.”

“There’s plenty of food.”

“There’s takeout cartons and bacon.” 

“A breakfast fit for a king.” 

“Do you at least have bread so I can make toast?” Malik sighed. 

Bakura grumbled at Malik’s picky tastes, but managed to find half a loaf of bread in his cupboards. He checked it for mold before sticking two slices into the toaster for Malik. Bakura grabbed a pan and the bacon from the fridge.

“Ew, don’t cook that while I’m here. I don’t like the smell of meat cooking.”

“Too fucking bad? It’s my house and I want to eat this.” 

Malik rolled his eyes and left. Bakura heard water running in the bathroom. When Malik came back, Bakura had two slices of buttered toast on the table beside a cup of instant coffee. Malik sat down and ate while Bakura flipped his bacon strips over. 

“Stinks.” Malik side-eyed Bakura. 

“Go the fuck home, then.”

“I’m going to after I finish this mediocre cup of crap coffee.” 

“Oh.” Bakura’s stomach sank. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Of course Malik was going to go home. Bakura still wasn’t sure what possessed him to come over and visit in the first place. “Good. I can go back to bed.” 

“I’ll leave you to it.” Malik downed the coffee, set down the cup, and stood.

“Um, excuse me. Wash your dishes.”

“But Bakura, I’m a guest.” Malik batted his eyelashes in Bakura’s direction. 

“Only because you invited yourself in. I don’t want to wash your cup and plate.” 

“Me neither.” 

Malik laughed as he sauntered out of the kitchen and the apartment, leaving Bakura to sulk and stick his bacon onto Malik’s plate in order to justify not washing _Malik’s_ dishes after his own breakfast. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next night Bakura decided to marathon Donkey Kong. By a quarter past two his vision was a little blurry and he kept burning through lives by making stupid mistakes on the higher levels, but he didn’t want to quit until he finished the mine cart stage. A knock on the door startled Bakura and he jumped into a bottomless pit.

“Figures.” Bakura dropped the control pad and went toward the door. 

His hands were clammy and he felt his heart straining in his ribs as he reached out to the door knob. He twisted, pulled, and there he was- Malik. His hair was in a worse bun than the night before and circles lined his eyes, but he gave Bakura a tired smile and the sight of it was like lightning hitting Bakura straight into his chest. 

“Let me in.” 

“You know people sleep in the middle of the night, right?”

“Not you. You’re a demon trapped in some human bones and skin.” Malik walked inside. A bag hung from each wrist. He lifted them up and lowered them again on his way to the kitchen. “Besides, I bought you some groceries.”

“Is feeding your kink?” Bakura asked. He hadn’t forgotten about their side game. 

“No, I just want you to taste good coffee. I’ll make us both a cup.”

“I don’t have a coffee pot.”

“I bought you a press.”

“Showering me with gifts, are you?” 

“Get smart with me, and I will literally drop it onto your head.” They both stood in the kitchen. Malik tossed out some of the leftover cartons of food. 

“Hey, I’m saving those.”

“Bakura, I know you’re from Ancient Egypt, but you can’t store prepared food for more than a few days. You’ll get sick.” 

“No, other people get sick because their immune systems suck.”

“Somehow I doubt that you have the same antibodies and gut bacteria in this body that you did as the Thief King.” 

Bakura stared down at his slender, pale body. He shrugged. “At least I’m taller than before.” 

“You were even shorter?” Malik grinned using his hand to make theoretical measurements. “How short are we talking here?” 

“Why? You into shorter men?” Bakura asked. 

“Sorry, that’s not my kink.”

“Voyeurism.”

“No.” Malik answered as he finished putting all the groceries he bought away. 

“Spanking.”

“Didn’t you say that before? Are you forgetting or were you just really hoping?”

“Fire cupping.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a no, apparently.” Bakura sighed. “Do you have any idea how long the lists of kinks are? It’s endless. I read about a dude that liked to pretend he was a salad.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“He had a bowl! He’d hire prostitutes to dump lettuce and dressing on him and then toss it with giant utensils.” 

“Okay, it’s nothing that unique, Bakura. Geez.” 

Bakura wrinkled his face. “It’s nothing like scat or urin-”

“No!” Malik glared at him.

“Well, I wasn’t going to _judge_ … much.” Bakura snickered at the end. 

“I can’t even stand getting dirt under my nails.” Malik poured two cups of coffee, passing one to Bakura. “One more and we’re done. I’m officially grossed out now.” 

Bakura sipped his coffee, needing the caffeine to wake up. He thought for a long time, and then made his best guess. “Power play.” 

“Why would I need that in the bedroom? I’m always in control.” 

“I still say it’s arguing with me.” 

“I don’t need to save that for the bedroom, either.” 

“Saying you wouldn’t get busy in the kitchen?”

“Fair, but it’s still not the answer that will let you win the game. Too bad, that was your last guess for the night.”

Bakura slammed the coffee down and marched into the living room, picking up his control pad. 

“What’s that?” Malik asked.

“Donkey Kong Country.”

“Can I play?”

“Do you play video games?” Bakura looked over his shoulder. 

“Not really, but how hard can it be?”

Bakura snorted as he restarted and set up a two player game. He soon learned that Malik was a physical player. He leaned forward or jerked his arms to will his character to make it over each long jump. The harder the area, the harder Malik smashed the keys. He and Bakura kept bumping shoulders as they played. Bakura pretended not to noticed the contact, but he did. Oh he did. Each brush of their bodies felt like livewires sinking into Bakura’s nerves. 

“Bakura! Pay attention!” Malik shouted. 

“Don’t worry about me. I got this,” Bakura grumbled, although he’d been zoning out and thinking about how soft Malik’s arm felt each time it brushed his own. 

They raced through the first few levels, but then things got hard enough for their lives to start dropping. Malik died, but there was a barrel up ahead and Bakura was able to get him out. When they beat the level, Malik dropped his control pad onto the floor so he could raise his arms into the air while shouting and fling them around Bakura’s neck when he finished his cheer. 

“Oh damn, I didn’t think we’d pull that off together.” 

“Yeah.” Bakura wished there was a bucket of ice he could stick his head in. 

“This is kind of addicting. No wonder you play all the time.” 

“I wouldn’t mind… if you came over once in a while to game.” Bakura leaned toward Malik. He kept telling himself no, no, don’t, stop, don’t. Don’t lean in. Don’t lower your eyes. Don’t tilt your head. Don’t smell Malik’s hair. Don’t relax in his arms. Don’t _feel_ whatever it was he was starting to feel. 

But Bakura did everything he lectured himself not to do, and Malik leaned in with him. Their lips bumped together the same way their fingers had in the popcorn bag, clumsy, accidental. Bakura was mad about how awkward it was. He readjusted and tried again. The brushes of their lips were like cotton candy, light, sweet, dissolving the moment they touched each other with their tongues. They pulled back, and Malik’s arms fell to his side. 

“Damn, I really _am_ sleep deprived.” Malik chuckled, but it was soft and breathless. 

“Can you make it home on your motorcycle? I could call you a cab?”

“No.” Malik frowned. The shadows below his eyes seemed to darken, or perhaps it was a trick of his expression. “Can I… could I just watch you play for a bit?”

Bakura shrugged. He was too tired to play well, but Malik looked like he needed it, and Bakura never had it in him to say no to Malik. He licked his lips, sealing in the kiss they shared, wishing he knew what it meant. Was Malik really that tired? Was it an accidental moment? What would Malik do if Bakura grabbed him again? Kissed him again? Kissed him harder? Bakura swallowed and crushed all his thoughts about Malik, focusing on the game instead. Malik sat beside him and watched for a few rounds, but then he curled into Bakura’s lap in the same way Bakura had woken up to the day before. 

“Malik?”

“I’m watching.” 

“Are you okay?” Bakura frowned. 

He liked it. He fucking hated that he liked it, but he liked it all the same. Malik curled in his lap while he played video games felt like some suppressed fantasy Bakura never knew he had, but now he was living it and it was mind-blowing, but it wasn’t like Malik to act quite like this. Malik didn’t show fatigue, or go two days without dressing like a fashionista. Malik wasn’t the type to forfeit a kiss without turning it into a game- like their kink game- and even now he seemed to be clinging to any excuse not to go home. 

“I’m fine. Just tired,” Malik muttered, falling asleep in Bakura’s lap. 

“If something’s wrong… I’ll help,” Bakura’s throat felt like a rusty can, but he still forced the words from it. 

“Somehow, I already knew that.” Malik smiled. Bakura watched his face for a moment as Malik fell asleep. 

Bakura sighed, finished his current level, and tossed the control pad. He couldn’t move, not without disturbing Malik, so Bakura lay back and closed his eyes. He was too tired to keep from falling asleep, even sitting up in the couch. 

Bakura woke up near noon the next day with stiff shoulders. He could see Malik across the bar-style counter that separated the kitchen and living room. 

“Are you cooking disgusting, meatless food in there?” Bakura called over. 

“I’m making you tempeh bacon,” Malik said.

“It won’t be as good.” Bakura scratched his head while he yawned. 

“Probably not, but tough luck. If I have to smell meat cooking right now I’m going to lose yesterday’s lunch all over your floor.”

“Fine, but I can guess all through breakfast, then.” 

Malik leaned over the counter with a seductive stare on his unadorned face. “Did that little taste last night stroke your hunger?” 

“Not enough got stroked last night. That’s why I want to guess more.” Bakura went to his computer which was on the same wall. He called over to the kitchen as he read from a list. “Bathysadism?”

“Nope.”

“Body worship- oh come on, who doesn’t want to worship the body of their lover?” Bakura scowled. His frown deepened when he heard Malik laughing. “What?”

“Sounds like that’s one of yours.”

“I’m just saying what’s the point of bothering with a lover if you don’t- you know what, never mind. Let’s continue with this list.” He didn’t want to say the rest of his thoughts. They made him sound lovesick. “Bukkake.”

“Nothing excessively messy, Bakura. How many hints do you need?”

“That was one of the nicer ones on this list!” Bakura stood and marched into the kitchen. “Are you sure it’s a fetish your have and not just like… a daydream or something?”

“I don’t know!” Malik looked flustered when he spun around to look at Bakura. “It’s something that, when I think about it, makes me want to _go_ , and _go hard_. Like… damn, I get so turned on I can barely take it.”

Bakura combed his fingers through his white horns of hair. “You know, if you tell me-”

“No way, asshole. You want to _worship_ my body, then you have to guess my secret desire on your own.”

“But that list is stupid.”

“Not my problem.”

Bakura growled and went back to his computer as Malik finished cooking. He got as far as coprophagia before grossing himself out to the point of giving up for the morning. 

“I’m done for today. Is breakfast ready?”

“Yes.” Malik said.

Bakura sat down and saw what Malik had made. Fava beans, flatbread, tempeh bacon, and cantaloupe. Bakura ate it all, but wrinkled his face at the tempeh bacon. 

“Where the fuck to people get off calling this bacon? I’ve told some lies in my day, but nothing this blasphemous.”

“But you have to admit the coffee is leagues better than that warm sewage you were drinking.”

“Malik, did you sleep okay? You look tired.” Bakura watched Malik’s face, ignoring his cup of coffee and Malik's statement.

“You don’t look great either after sleeping on the couch.”

“Well, I could have gone to bed, but you fell asleep on me.” Bakura grit his teeth.

“Yeah, thanks for being my pillow. You’re great, Bakura.” Malik laughed, standing up and walking out of the kitchen.

“Malik Ishtar, don’t you dare.”

“Sorry, Bakura, I don’t wash dishes.”

“You left the pans!”

Malik blew Bakura a kiss and disappeared. Bakura cursed as he shoved everything in a sink of hot, soapy water and scrubbed the cooking pans. Bakura had to _work_ that day. Which meant he had to check the programs he had setup to farm cryptocurrency and trade out the _loot_ for yen in a bank account he had set up with an alias. 

Other than that, he showered, played video games, browsed the internet- actually he thought of Malik almost every free second he had. Everything else he was wasting his time on was a failed distraction to get his mind off their kiss as it continued to replay in his mind. He swore each time he thought about it- it only made him more and more ravenous to kiss Malik again, and to touch him. Sick of pining, Bakura stormed off to bed early that night, tossing and turning, but eventually falling asleep. The two nights on the sofa had caught up to him, and Bakura not only fell asleep, but dropped right out of existence. He hadn’t slept that hard since Ryou first brought him back with magic and he was too exhausted to do anything _but_ sleep. 

Pounding on his door echoed through his apartment. It took Bakura a moment to register that it wasn’t part of his dreams. He rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall. He only wore boxers, but he figured he knew who it was when he swung the door open. 

“Why are you naked?” Malik asked.

“Not.”

“I’ve never seen your hair _this_ bad.” Malik ran his fingers through Bakura’s hair. “How spiky does it get?”

“Malik, I’m sleeping.”

“I don’t believe you. It’s only 2am.”

“Malik-”

“Why don’t you guess some more? Don’t you want to win our game?” Malik let himself in again. 

Bakura fetched the blanket from his bed and dragged it to the couch, curling up in it as Malik lounged on the other end. 

“Don’t you sleep?” Bakura asked.

“Sure, but not right now. Right now I’m bored.”

“I’m not bored. I’m sleeping.” Bakura shut his eyes.

“Bakura.” Malik pulled the blanket off of Bakura’s body. “Guess some more. Don’t you want to win?”

“You said nothing too unique and nothing that would get you dirty… is it…” Heat scalded Bakura’s cheeks. “Is it something couples do? Like, romantic?” 

“...Maybe,” Malik muttered. 

“Uuuugh, Malik, can we at least have this conversation in bed with the blankets? I’m sick of this couch.” 

“I-”

“I’ll turn on the light. Just let me lay down.” 

“O-okay,” Malik muttered. 

Bakura took his blanket back to the bedroom. Not only did he turn on the ceiling light, but the lamp in the corner as well. It was glaring-bright in the small room, but Bakura’s vision was smeared with sleep and he didn’t really care. He dropped back into his spot on his mattress. 

“Kissing.” 

“Ha, we already tried that, remember?” Malik laughed. “It was good, but I didn’t rip your clothes off.” 

“Rip my clothes off?” Bakura echoed, half asleep. He didn’t really have clothes on, but he liked thinking about Malik ripping his non-existent clothes off his body anyway.

“If you guess right.”

“Cuddling, holding hands, spooning.” 

“You’ve gone 360 on these guesses, Bakura.” Malik was still laughing. 

“Well, the other end of the spectrum was getting me nowhere.”

“At least none of these are making me nauseous. What about you? Did you ever figure out what your favorite thing is?” 

“My real kink is sleeping.” 

“Liar. You’re a slut for something. Maybe I should find out what it is.” 

“You have my blessing to try.” Bakura gave Malik a thumbs up. 

“Oh? Should I try some of the things you’ve been suggesting?” Malik lay behind Bakura. He snaked his arms around Bakura’s middle and pressed his forehead in the center of Bakura’s bare shoulder blades. 

“What are you doing?”

“Spooning.” 

“ _Why_?” 

“You suggested it.”

“I was going to do it for you if you were into it.” 

“And now we’re doing it to see if you’re into it.”

“I’m not ripping your clothes off, so I guess not.”

“I don’t know… this is pretty cozy.” 

“It’s not awful.” Bakura toyed with the edge of his pillow as Malik held him. 

“Is this as bad as tempeh?”

“No,” Bakura confessed. “Nothing is as bad as vegan food.”

“You have a smart answer for everything, don’t you?” 

“I graduated from FU. Got my B.S. in B.S.” 

“So funny. I’m breathless.” Malik started tickling Bakura’s ribs. 

Bakura bucked, laughing and kicking. Malik grinned above him. Bakura’s laughter spurred Malik to tickle him harder. He refused to stop until Bakura was a breathless, rosy-cheeked mess on the bed. 

“You look… cute.” Malik leaned down and pressed his lips against Bakura’s. 

Bakura gasped, not expecting their lips to meet. He looked up at Malik, whose eyes still had dark circles and no kohl. His hair was still a heap. His hoodie had a stain. Bakura pulled the hoodie off of Malik's torso. 

He was surprised that Malik let him without a quip. As much as Bakura wanted to stare, instead he stood, pulled out a t-shirt and his baggiest pair of boxers out of his dresser. He brought them to the bed, handing them to Malik. 

“What’s this? Thought you wanted me out of my clothes, not into yours?” 

“You’ve been wearing the same thing for three days,” Bakura muttered. “Not that I care, but that t-shirt I gave you is comfortable as fuck. I highly recommend it for a slumber party.”

“Slumber party?” Malik grinned down at the shirt. “Never got to have one of those.”

“Sure you have. We’ve had two.” Bakura shrugged, as if he didn’t care, but for someone who didn’t care, Bakura’s heart was going wild.

Malik slipped into the t-shirt and then swapped out his pants and boxers for the pair Bakura gave him. Bakura admired Malik’s body as he changed, he also admired it once he dropped back into bed in Bakura’s sleepwear. Bakura lowered himself onto the mattress, hovering over Malik. He reached to the top of Malik’s hair, and untangled the band from it, combing it out with his fingers. His fingers ran down Malik’s cheek. Then his hand shot out, twining his fingers with Malik’s hands and squeezing their fingers together. 

“What are you doing?” Malik smiled. 

“Holding your hand,” Bakura said. 

“Why?”

“You said we were going to try a little bit of everything until we found out what I liked.”

“I didn’t say it _quite_ like that.” Malik’s lips twisted, like his smile was trying to widen but he was holding back. 

“What about feet?”

“It's something people sometimes do to feet.” 

“I’m getting closer then. I'll just guess at things one can do to feet.” Bakura settled back down, dragging Malik’s arm over him so they could continue spooning. “Licking, biting, sucking, breathing over.”

“Sorry, you’re not as close as you think.” Malik sounded amused. He held Bakura tightly.

Bakura shut his eyes. “Well, I’ve already guessed kissing and tickling.”

“Yes you have.”

“Fuck it. Too tired to have my clothes ripped off anyway. We’ll stick to this.”

“Thought you weren’t into this?”

“Who knows? Better keep at it, just in case I change my mind.” 

“If you insist.” Malik hummed as if they were trying a new food or brand of hair product instead of laying in bed as intimately- if not more so- than lovers. 

Bakura lost track of time as they started talking. They did talk about food, and hair product, shoes, and music. When Bakura woke up the next morning, Malik’s arms still held around his center. He gripped Malik’s forearm, wanting to stay in bed all day like that. Bakura’s eyes rolled toward the window. Through the slit in the curtains, he could see the heavy gray skies and the fat, fat clumps of snow dropping from the sky. 

“Is that snow?” Malik asked, Bakura’s stirring waking him. 

“Looks like it.”

“I’ve never seen snow.” Malik slipped out of bed and walked to the window. He opened the curtains and watched the flakes accumulate on the ground. “Reminds me of your hair.” 

“You know, you really shouldn’t drive your bike in this.”

“Bakura.” Malik glanced over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “Are you inviting me to stay the entire day here?” 

“We can brew some of that snobby, elitist coffee of yours and waste the day playing Donkey Kong Country.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Yes. I would like that.” Malik fidgeted with the curtain. 

Bakura sat up. He couldn't place his finger on it, but knew something was still wrong with Malik. “You don’t have to. I could call a cab.” 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily. You already lured me in with video games.” Malik winked as he left the bedroom still wearing Bakura’s clothes. 

Bakura sighed. They looked good on him.


	3. Chapter 3

Malik cooked the same breakfast as the day before. Bakura skipped the tempeh bacon and fried eggs instead.

“Is it fun?” Malik asked.

“Is what fun? The answer is probably no.” Bakura shoveled food into his mouth as he spoke. 

“Snow.”

“Not really.”

“I bet you're only saying that because you're a killjoy.” 

“While I do enjoy dashing the hopes and dreams of my fellow man, I do not enjoy snow. It's cold, and wet, and all those movies of happy, frolicking people are greatly over exaggerated.” 

“I'm going to go out in it after breakfast.” 

“Suit yourself.”

“You should come with me. It’ll give you a chance to guess some more.”

“Yes, that’s just what the neighborhood kids need. Me screaming about figging and hot candle wax while they have a snowball fight.” 

“If those were guesses, they’re both wrong.” 

“I figured. I was simply making a point.” Bakura grabbed Malik’s plates and washed the breakfast dishes. “At least let me find extra gloves and a scarf for you.”

“You will? You worried I might catch cold?” 

“If you want to be an idiot and play in the snow, then you should at least avoid hypothermia. I certainly don’t want to take you to the hospital. It would be inconvenient and a waste of my day.” 

“Oh please. It’s not _that_ cold.” Malik rolled his eyes. 

“We’ll see how long you last out there.” Bakura dried his hands on a towel and went to dig through his closet for extra clothes that were baggy enough for Marik to wear. 

He didn’t have any pants Malik would fit into, but he did manage to find a huge sweater, so he slipped that over Malik’s head and then swaddled Malik in his biggest jacket along with a scarf and gloves Ryou had knitted for him. 

“What are you going to wear?” Malik slipped his sweat pants over the boxers Bakura had lent him. 

“This is fine.” Bakura doubled up on sweaters and then wore the long, black jacket he’d stolen from Ryou years ago. 

“That’s not nearly as thick as this one, and where’s your scarf?” Malik tugged at the collar of Bakura’s jacket. 

“Drop it. I’m fine.” Bakura growled. 

“If you say so.” Malik led the way out of the apartment and into the common grounds where the snow was a vast blanket across the yard. 

“Must have snowed last night as well. It shouldn’t be this thick yet.” 

Bakura kicked at the white powder. He shoved his hands into his pockets. The thin gloves he wore only took the sharpest part of the sting out of his fingers. Bakura shivered, but he clenched his jaw and suffered through it, distracting himself with the sight of Malik. 

And Malik was a glorious distraction. He looked up into the gray sky, giggling as flakes caught in his eyelashes. He stuck out his tongue in order to catch a flake before looking at Bakura and grinning. A faint tint lit up his complexion from the cold, and his eyes gleamed; the dull colors around them made his irises almost glow. 

“So? What do we do?” 

“Whatever you want, I guess.” Bakura shrugged, trying to hide the fact that his teeth were chattering. 

“I… I don’t know what _to_ do.” 

“How do I let you talk me into these, stupid, useless, ugh-” Bakura dropped down to his back, landing onto the white carpet and watching his breath stream out of his mouth. 

“Bakura?”

“Watch.” Bakura moved his arms back and forth in the snow and then got up carefully, pointing at the imprint. “See?”

“Um, yes, you ruined the snow. Good job.” 

“Dammit, Malik. It’s an angel!”

“What?” Malik laughed. 

“It’s a snow angel. Ryou likes them. That’s the robe, and that’s the wings.”

Malik looked at the imprint, then at Bakura, then the imprint. His face lit up and he dropped beside Bakura’s angel and cast his own into the white. Malik wasn’t careful when he stood, so his angel had shoe prints in it, but otherwise the two angels flew through the white world side by side. 

“That’s… that’s neat.”

Bakura did not agree. He’d gotten snow against his neck when he’d dropped down, and his mind was screaming because of the cold burn of it. 

“Let’s do that again!” Malik grabbed him and tugged him over a few meters to a fresh patch of snow. 

Bakura grunted, but dropped down in the snow with Malik. He waved his arms and legs as Malik copied him, laughing. They stood up, admired their work, and then looked at each other. Only then did Bakura smile, but not because he gave a damn about snow or angels. Malik, however, was another matter. Malik was smiling, and his hair was dusted with snow, and the still falling flakes danced around him, and Bakura’s lips turned up at the sight of it all. 

“What next?”

Bakura looked around, trying to think of some of the ridiculous things Ryou had always enjoyed about snow. Bakura dropped to his knees and started scooping clumps of damp snow together. He finished the base and was starting on a middle, but realized Malik was only standing and watching. 

“Don’t just stand there. Help.”

“But what are we doing?” Malik dropped to his knees and helped push snow together into a large mound and then packing it with Bakura’s pile. 

“We’re going to make a snowman.” 

“Is this really a thing that people do? Or are you trolling me?” 

“I told you, all these cliché snow activities are overrated.” After they finished, Bakura stood up and brushed the snow away from himself. “We need this to make his face. Pebbles, or sticks, or- I suppose I could stab myself and use blood.” 

“Go for it.” Malik stood up, smoothing out the rough patches on their snowman. 

“I think my blood has frozen. We’ll have to find rocks after all.”

“Coward.” Marik laughed, but he dug around at the edge of the courtyard in search of stones.

Bakura pulled off the buttons at his cuffs and used those for eyes. He found sticks for arms and a small stub for a nose. Marik brought back small stones and they lined up a mouth beneath the button eyes. 

“There. He’s done.” Bakura said. 

Technically, they should have given their snowman a scarf, but Bakura was going to be damned if Malik took off his scarf for a clump of snow. The snowman could freeze to death and be swallowed by Ammit for all Bakura cared. Malik needed to stay warm while he pranced outside and acted like a fool. 

“So what do we do with it?” 

“Look at it.” Bakura hugged himself. “Take a picture I suppose.” 

“Stand by him.” Malik pulled out his phone. 

“What?” Bakura scowled. 

“I want you in the picture.”

“For the gods’ sake, why?”

“Because it’s a fucking memory I want to fucking treasure forever you asshole. Now go stand by our stupid snowman and smile like you’re anyone but you.”

Bakura rolled his eyes. He trudged to the snowman, wrapped his arm around it like they were buddies, and grinned like he was Ryou.

“No, no, not the Ryou smile. That’s creepy as fuck.”

“But Malik-kun!”

“Nope! Nope! Hell no! You stop that right now, Bakura.” Malik took a picture anyway, probably because by that point Bakura was actually laughing at him. 

“Get over here and suffer with me.” Bakura tugged Malik over to the snowman, stealing his camera and taking a few different pictures. 

“One more.” Malik pulled Bakura toward him this time.

“Selfies are dumb.”

“You’ll like this one.” 

Malik grabbed the back of Bakura’s head with one hand and kissed him. For a moment, Bakura didn’t feel the cold. In fact, he was burning alive as Malik’s lips worked against his own. Bakura growled a little when Malik pulled away, demanding more. 

“You haven’t been guessing.” Malik winked, stashing his phone into Bakura’s coat pocket. 

They walked side by side down the street, the snow crunching below their shoes. In the distance, other people laughed and made their own snowmen, or had snowball fights, but they seemed far away. The world was only Malik surrounded by a universe of white. Bakura wished _he_ surrounded Malik like that. His white legs wrapped around Malik’s waist, and his white arms clinging to his shoulders. 

“Ice cubes.”

“Ha! Ask again in the summer time and that might sound more fun.”

“Candles.”

“You said candle wax already.”

“I meant candle light.” 

“Nope. Sorry.” 

“Body paint.”

“How is that a-”

“At this point, I’m guessing wildly.”

“I’m really surprised that you haven’t stumbled on it yet. I’ve given you more than a fair share of clues.” 

“Edging.” 

“Nah. What about you?”

“I’m too impatient for edging.”

“I meant, have you thought about your favorite kink?” 

“Even if I have, why should I tell you?”

“Because you’re too impatient to have me guess.” 

“Fuck, you got me there.” Bakura smirked. 

Malik gestured with his chin. “Look, a coffee shop. Let’s go get something hot to drink.” 

Anything to get out of the hateful snow. Bakura and Malik steered into the direction of the shop. Bakura reached up and brushed the extra snow out of Malik’s hair. Malik grinned and returned the favor, and Bakura found himself blushing. He… really enjoyed the feeling of Malik's fingers in his hair. Once they were inside, Malik got something fancy with a name a mile long; Bakura ordered black coffee. They sat down near a gas-powered fireplace. Bakura held the cup up. The steam rose up to his frozen nose, and the heat felt good near his face. 

“Thanks… for humoring me,” Malik murmured half into his cup before taking a sip. 

“I really do indulge you far too much.” Bakura grinned.

“I’m worth it.” Malik smirked. 

“Yeah…” The word slipped out before he could stop it. Bakura winced, biting the inside of his cheek and changing the subject. “Loli, cuckolding, choking, tentacles-”

“Tentacles, really? Damn, you seriously are just throwing everything out there, aren’t you?” 

“I’m never going to get laid.” Bakura laughed. 

“Giving up?”

“I never give up, either.” Bakura chugged the second half of his coffee. He wanted it while it was still hot. 

“Let’s focus on you then.” Malik gave Bakura a predatory gaze that made Bakura’s breath hitch. “What do you think you’d like?” 

“I don’t know, maybe my hair being pulled.” Bakura stared out the window at the snow fluttering down onto the already covered streets.

Perhaps he meant petted. He’d been thinking about the brief second before they entered the coffee shop, but he wouldn’t mind Malik giving it a tug either. Bakura merely wanted sensation, all sensation. Everything had gone numb in the Ring. Now that he was human again, now that he could _feel_ again, he wanted to feel everything- sometimes all at once. Bakura added. “Sensation play, I guess.” 

“Hmmm…” Malik hummed, tipping his head back to drain his cup. “Warmed up enough? I’m ready to get back inside.”

Bakura nodded and they left the coffee shop and walked back to his apartment. The way home was worse. The heat of the coffee shop thawed them enough to melt the snow in their hair and on their clothes, so they were damp as they went back out. Bakura felt like his hair was dripping with icicles. Malik could probably reach over and break off one of his wings because of the cold. He shook by the time they got back inside. Bakura tossed off his jacket and his clothes the moment he was inside the apartment. 

“Expecting some sensation play already?” Malik asked. “I don’t think it’s fair until after you’ve guessed what I want.” 

“C-cold,” Bakura stammered, rushing to the bathroom. He drew a hot bath. He hugged himself and shivered as he waited for the tub to fill, and when it finally was full, he hissed as he dipped inside. He winced at the heat but craved it and curled his knees into his chest as the water’s heat soaked into his body. 

“It wasn’t _that bad_.” Malik appeared in Bakura’s boxers and t-shirt. 

_Yeah, not for you. You had my good jacket._ Bakura pursed his lips, but kept quiet about it. “There’s also a stand up shower if you want to jump in real quick.”

“Is that an excuse to see me naked?” 

“I don’t need to see you naked to know that you’re gorgeous.” Bakura flipped Malik off. 

“Only you could say something that nice, and turn it into an insult instead of a compliment.”

“A skill I’m quite proud of.” 

“I’m sure.” Malik sighed, as if exhausted. “I suppose I should take a shower.”

“I don’t care either way, but it’s there, and the hot water feels good after all that snow.” 

In fact, he did care. He suspected Malik hadn’t showered in the same way he hadn’t changed his clothes. He had no idea what was going on with Malik, but he knew Malik was a priss when it came to hygiene, so the fact that Malik was ignoring it was concerning, even for Bakura. He was more relieved than he wanted to admit when Malik did get into the shower to wash up. Once his own water lost its heat, Bakura dried himself and fetched a clean towel for Malik. Malik was out a moment later; his hair dripped onto Bakura’s bath mat. Bakura pulled out the hair dryer and started on Malik’s hair. 

“What are you doing?” Malik called out to Bakura over the noise of the motor. 

“I don’t know. Thought maybe I’d get lucky and this would be your fetish!” 

“My hair stylist probably would have kicked me out of the salon if that were the case!” 

“Then take it and do this yourself!” 

“No way! Finish what you start!” Malik crossed his arms over his chest and allowed Bakura to dry his hair.

Bakura made a scene of looking put out by it, but secretly, he loved it. He was able to comb his fingers through Malik’s soft hair. The hair dryer brought out the scent of Bakura’s favorite shampoo as he worked through different sections. Bakura found himself leaning in so he could savor the smell and be closer to Malik. The cold was merely a bad memory now, and Malik was warm enough to make Bakura forget it. 

“Video games?” Malik asked when his hair was dry enough.

Bakura flipped off the dryer, giving Malik’s hair a last toss with his fingers for the pleasure of it. “Yeah. I’ll pop some popcorn and we can play.” 

They slipped back into their night clothes so they could stay comfortable as they played. Malik leaned in and kissed Bakura. Bakura’s knees turned to soft butter the second Malik’s lips reached him. He leaned back against the counter, allowing Malik to take control of the moment while Bakura simply enjoyed it. Bakura growled in protest when Malik pulled back. 

“Race you.” Malik dashed away. 

“Rotten bastard.” 

Bakura chased after him, but Malik’s head start was too big and Bakura glared at Malik as Malik collapsed onto the sofa laughing. Bakura stomped to the kitchen to fix popcorn. Marik had their game loaded by the time he returned. Feeling testy because of Malik cheating their race, Bakura made sure to be a pest by pressing himself against Malik on the couch as he grabbed his control pad. He dropped the popcorn into Malik’s lap so he had an excuse to reach over each time he stole a handful between rounds. 

Malik rested his head on Bakura’s shoulder. Bakura felt the plastic control pad grow slick in his hand as his palm sweated. It took everything he had not to scream at Malik and run out into the snowy landscape. Freezing to death couldn’t be worse that sitting there with Malik _so close_ , but unreachable because Bakura sucked at their stupid guessing game. 

“You’re missing a lot of jumps. Are you distracted?” 

“I’m running out of kinks to name off.” 

“What a shame- for both of us- because we can’t do it if you don’t guess it.” 

“Malik.” Bakura nuzzled against the side of Malik’s head. “Give me another hint.”

“Alright.” Malik pressed a little into Bakura, like a bump, only they were already too close together to put any real momentum into the movement. 

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, what’s the clue?”

“It’s something that… you haven’t guessed yet.”

Laughter hiccuped out of Bakura’s chest. He had to admit, that was a good one, and he had walked right into it. 

Out loud he only said, “You fucking bitch.” 

“You died,” Malik said.

“Fuck.” Bakura dropped his control pad and grabbed more popcorn. “You want lunch?”

Malik made a noncommittal noise that suggested that the answer was _not really_. 

“You want a pile of various snacks to pick at while we watch a movie?”

“That distracted?” Malik smirked. Bakura shot him a glare which only made Malik laugh. “Snacks are good.”

With a nod Bakura moved to get up, but Malik grabbed Bakura and pulled him down. He crashed into Malik’s lap, the bag of popcorn spilling onto the floor. Bakura didn’t yell at the mess; he was lost in a field of lavender. Malik gave him a sad smile.

“Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll guess some more.” Bakura looked away. 

“ _Hmph_ , I might as well forfeit my own game. Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Hey.” Bakura turned back, anger flaring up in his stomach. He held both sides of Malik’s face, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t angry at Malik. He was never _truly_ angry at Malik. It was the Pharaoh. Always the Pharaoh. The continuous source of both of their suffering. “Those were crap circumstances.”

“Making excuses for me? How unlike you Bakura.” 

“Shut your trap. I’m not making excuses- they were crap circumstances.” 

Bakura didn’t know if he wanted to slap Malik, pull him in for a kiss, or storm off. It was hard to think while sitting in Malik’s lap. Not only because of the stirring in his cock from the proximity, but because of the way Malik scrambled all of Bakura’s thoughts and flared up emotions that Bakura thought he’d managed to purge with darkness thousands of years ago. 

“Thanks, Bakura.”

“Everything you say pisses me off.” Bakura decided the answer was kiss him. 

He held his breath as he dragged his lips across Malik’s. Malik grabbed Bakura’s hair and kissed him back. Bakura’s hands dropped to Malik’s shoulders as he deepened their kisses. He wanted more, more, _more_. Malik’s fingers yanking his hair was too good, and when Malik dropped to Bakura’s throat and started to bite, Bakura’s cock jumped from hard to _fucking granite_. 

“ _Oh gods_!” 

Bakura moaned and arched. His fingers clawed at Malik’s t-shirt. He couldn’t sit still. Each time Malik bit or sucked at his throat, Bakura squirmed, bucking and feeling Malik’s hard cock through the borrowed boxers. Bakura forced himself to concentrate, recalling the list of kinks and fetishes he’d read online. 

“Fisting, gags, marking you lover- feel free, by the way. To leave marks. Fuck yes, fuck like that!” Bakura’s attempted guesses got lost at the way Malik was going at his throat. “M-monsters? Um, anal? Voyerism- I think I said that. Uh… ah- ahh- uh… docking?” 

“What even _is_ that?” Malik snickered against Bakura’s throat. He slipped his fingers beneath Bakura’s shirt and grazed his nails from Bakura’s hips to his ribs. Then he dragged his nails back down Bakura’s sides and Bakura wailed in delight from the tingling thrill that licked across his nerves. 

“I… I… oral? Lap dances? I- I _don’t fucking have a clue what you want but I want to fucking do it to you all night long_.” Bakura growled. He was grinding against Malik now, panting, between frustrated growls, instinct in complete control and his mind was incapable of new guesses. 

“ _Mmmmm_ , Bakura. Fuck it, I want you. It’s-”

“Don't you dare tell me!”

Bakura silenced Malik with a deep, lingering kiss. He forced his hips to still. Malik grunted, bucking up to press against Bakura’s body. Bakura wanted to capitulate to it. To seize the pleasure and feast on it until he was sated and passed out in Malik’s arms on the sofa, but he jerked away, wiping his mouth and marching toward the kitchen. 

“I told you,” Bakura snarled, sounding angrier than he was. He flipped his hair back to get it out of the way of his scalding face. “There are ways I like to win and ways I don’t.” 

“You come back here.” Malik smacked his fists on Bakura’s sofa cushions. 

“Sorry,” Bakura purred. “I need to find us some snacks.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @Cardiac Crisis for drawing the meme!kura pic for me! You're the best XD

Bakura threw open the cupboards, pulling down boxes of Hello Panda, bags of seaweed chips, and a pile of Kit Kat bars that Ryou had given to him as a joke. Malik marched into the kitchen after Bakura, a beautiful, angry fire smoldering in his eyes.

“I was not done with you.” Malik pinned Bakura against the counter and yanked him closer by the hair to get him into kissing range.

His grin made him difficult to kiss. “Oh? But I was done.”

“You were _not_ ,” Malik hissed.

He was not. Not at all. But the _game_. He could never resist a game, and Malik seemed upset despite the way he attacked Bakura was his mouth. Like the kissing was a distraction, but Bakura wanted it to be the main event. Not a side show, not some white noise to drown out something else, he wanted Malik’s undivided attention, so as much as Bakura wanted to escalate things, he refused to until he figured out what the fuck was wrong with Malik. He held Malik’s face, slowing down their kisses. He dropped to Malik’s neck. Malik tilted his head back, but only sighed. It was not the same as when he’d done it to Bakura. He could tell that Malik like it, but not in the same way.

Bakura realized that he _needed_ to guess correctly. He needed Malik to moan the way Bakura had with Malik’s teeth against his skin. He needed Malik to feel like Bakura had a moment ago. Only then would it be good enough for both of them.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get it eventually. I’m nothing if not persistent.” Bakura held up a Kit Kat bar with a grin on his face. “They’re good luck, yeah?”

“When did you believe in luck?”

“When did you start knocking on my door in the middle of the night?”

“I was bored. Cause and effect. Not luck.”

“Hmmm… yes, cause and effect indeed. I have trouble believing that boredom was your strongest motivating factor.”

“Maybe I just wanted to turn you into a frustrated mess.” Malik rolled his hips against Bakura as he said it.

“Mission success.” Bakura chuckled.

“Then let’s finish what we’ve started.” Malik bit hard into Bakura’s neck.

“Gods.” Bakura dropped the candy in order to grip the counter. He arched hard, grinding into Malik again. “This… is definitely it for me. The bites. _Holy fuck_. Harder!”

Malik tugged Bakura’s shirt over his head and dropped it on top of the forgotten Kit Kat bars. He bit along Bakura’s collarbone, making Bakura whine in need. Yet, despite his ragged breathing, despite the perfect way Malik tore into his skin, despite the waves of euphoria drowning Bakura, he couldn’t stop himself from asking the question on his mind.

“Why _did_ you knock on my door?”

“I just felt like it.” Malik decorated Bakura’s chest with a red-violet necklace of love bites that had Bakura half-out of his mind.

“You don’t do anything on a whim.” Bakura squirmed, wanting everything Malik was offering, but at the same time knowing they needed to stop.

Bakura grabbed Malik’s shoulders, but didn’t have the strength to push away anymore. He _needed_ it too badly. Each bite against his flesh made him forget why he was holding back. Bakura forced himself to straighten up.

“Where are your earrings?”

“What?” Malik scowled, eyeing Bakura’s chest like that was his only care in the world.

“Dammit, where are your earrings? You haven’t worn them all week.”

“They’re at home in a box, Bakura. Fuck, why do you care about my jewelry so much? You can steal them some other time.”

“I wouldn’t steal _those_.” Bakura gnashed his teeth together. Malik’s words stung, and Bakura was not used to verbal darts getting through his emotional armor. “Those are _yours_.”

“They’re my dad’s,” Malik muttered. He sighed and turned away, hugging himself. Bakura had managed to ruin the mood, but there was no satisfaction in it. “They’re mine now, but they’re his.”

“Malik, what, is, wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Malik’s forehead wrinkled. “I always get depressed around the winter solstice, okay? It’s dark all the fucking time. I wanted a distraction. I’ll be a little better tomorrow, I promise.”

Bakura mulled the information over. The first day Malik showed up had been the 21st of December, and Bakura’s host sometimes suffered from seasonal depression, so it wasn’t an unbelievable story. Still, it felt like there was something Malik wasn’t mentioning.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

“What?” Malik spun to face Bakura, suspicious. “You don’t _go out_.”

“Well of course not. I never have anyone to go out with. Come on. I’ll take you to dinner.” Bakura smirked. “I’ll even pay for it, to make it special.”

“Oh? We’re not going to dodge out at the last second to avoid the check?”

“I don’t know, is that your kink?”

“No.” Malik pressed his lips together to hide the smile trying to break out on his face.

“Then I’ll simply pay the bill so we can relax after we eat.”

“You’re… seriously taking me out to dinner? Like a date?”

“Eh.” Bakura shrugged. He didn’t like the word _date_. “Even a monster like me doesn’t like it when you’re this down.”

“Is it that obvious?” Malik frowned, hugging himself again.

“I don’t think it’s obvious, but I know you well enough.”

“Not enough to guess my kink.” Malik’s lips twitched, smiling again.

“Let’s go to your place so you can get clothes that fit.” Bakura winked. “Maybe I’ll get inspired and guess correctly if I see your room.”

“It’s a mess. I… may have smashed a few things before I came over yesterday.”

“I don’t care.” Bakura shrugged again.

“Anyone else would say that to be polite, but I know you’re serious.” Malik laughed as he reached around Bakura and stole the seaweed chips. “Okay, let’s watch a movie and then we’ll take a cab to my place so I can get ready for our date.”

Bakura snorted at the term date, but gathered up the snacks and went into the living room. They salvaged half of the remaining popcorn, and had a ridiculous “movie theater” lunch as they watched the first Lone Wolf and Cub movie. Malik talked Bakura into the second one as well, and while Bakura knew Malik was stalling, he couldn’t resist the thought of a few more hours snuggled beside Malik on his couch- despite his verbal complaints that suggested otherwise.

After the second movie, Malik wrapped up in his original clothes and in Bakura’s jacket, scarf, and gloves, and they took a cab back to his place to avoid driving the motorcycle in the snow. Bakura only wore a hoodie, prepared to steal his coat back before they left Malik’s apartment.

“Here we are. I’m up top.” Malik pointed out the cab window.

“I bet.” Bakura smirked.

“You'd win that bet.” Malik winked.

The city was already dark, but street and store lights flashed nearby as the cab slowed down and pulled up to the entrance. Malik led Bakura to the elevator and used a key before hitting the button for the top floor.

“I figured you’d have the penthouse.” Bakura snorted.

“Jealous?” Malik bumped him with his shoulder.

Bakura leaned back and watched the elevator numbers go up instead of answering. He was surprised when the doors opened up to a foyer instead of a hallway.

“The entire top floor is yours?” Bakura glanced at Malik.

“Of course. I don’t want neighbors.”

“Fuck me.” Bakura whistled as he walked into the living area and looked around.

“I’ll give you a proper tour next time. For now I’m just going to change. Here.” Malik stripped off Bakura’s winter wear and handed it to him. “Thanks for letting me borrow it all.”

“Wasn’t a big deal.” Bakura shrugged, but he was eager to bundle himself up in the warmer gear.

“Must be nice being a manifestation of darkness that doesn’t care about things like cold temperatures.” Malik snorted and disappeared into a walk-in closet the size of Bakura’s kitchen.

Bakura scowled as he watched Malik go. He never said anything about the demon and darkness jokes- of course he _propagated that image of himself-_ but since he’d come back, anything left of Zorc had been scrubbed from his soul. He _wished_ he still had the numb comfort of the Shadows, but no. He was raw inside, a soft shelled crab dropped living into a vat of bubbling oil. His past mistakes, his current feelings, sizzled around and he thrashed, helpless to stop it.

He shook his head and focused on rummaging through Malik’s room for any sign of what his secret bedroom desire might be. Malik had indeed smashed several pictures, a vase, and a chair. There were knives sticking out of the wall and slashes against the bedding. Bakura noted the destruction, but continued his search. He didn’t find anything sexual, although he did see a bottle of massage oil in a reasonably sized side closet. Bakura decided to filch it just in case. the bottle hadn’t been opened, and Bakura was honestly surprised to see it in Malik's room. He figured that Malik didn’t want anyone touching his back. Perhaps the bottle had been an unwanted gift, but maybe Bakura could offer Malik a simple shoulder rub after dinner. Anything to cheer Malik up, Bakura realized. He’d do fucking anything to cheer that high-maintenance asshole up.

“What are you glaring at?”

Bakura jerked toward Malik’s closet. He wore a long-sleeved shirt and a camel-colored coat with fur trim. He still didn’t have his kohl or jewelry, but he did wear a smile on his face, and that was good enough for Bakura. He also held a suitcase.

“Is that an overnight bag?” Bakura asked, detouring away from Malik’s question.

“Yes. Were you sulking because you couldn’t find any clues to what my fetish is?”

“Maybe.” Bakura smirked. “Unless it’s edge-play. There seem to be a lot of knives in here.”

“Wrong again. What a shame. Shall we go?”

Bakura nodded his head and they left the apartment and took the elevator back downstairs. Malik hailed another cab, and they went to a place Bakura knew was an over priced tourist trap, but he also knew they would have both steak and tofu. Since they had rode in a cab, they each had a bottle of beer as they split a basket of edamame as an appetizer.

“I’m surprised you’re eating this. You know this is where tofu comes from, don’t you?” Malik sucked the soybeans out of their steamed, salted pod.

Bakura shrugged, picking at his appetizer. “I ate your stupid tempeh bacon.”

“I know. I’m a little shocked, honestly.”

“Anything but chickpeas.” Bakura frowned.

“Why?”

“Hate them.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t teach myself to be the greatest tomb robber in Egypt to eat fucking legumes, okay?”

“Fair enough.”

The conversation drifted off as they sipped on their beers. Bakura wracked his mind for kinks, kept thinking of the same ones he’d already said over and over, as if Malik would change his mind. Bakura caught a glance of Malik from across the table and his thoughts vanished.

“What?” A crooked smile twitched on Malik’s face when he noticed Bakura staring.

“Nothing.” Bakura shook his head.

“Nothing?”

“Shut up. You’re such a pest.”

“Yeah, such a pest that you took me out to dinner.”

How could he argue against that? Easily. That’s how. It was Malik he was dealing with. “Of course. I didn’t want you messing up my kitchen again.”

“Oh? Is that the only reason?”

“No. I’m secretly in love with you.” Bakura rolled his eyes. Funny how that could change the meaning of a sentence. Funny how there were so many ways to lie even when someone was all but french-kissing the truth.

“I know demons don’t love anyone- except themselves.”

“I don’t think Zorc loved himself. He merely wanted everything.”

“Ah, you two had so much in common.”

“Can’t help it if I want everything I see.” Bakura gestured as if he wasn’t speaking in double entendres.

Their food came and Bakura tore into his rare T-bones, licking juice from his lips after each bite. He looked up and caught Malik staring. Bakura blew him a kiss and they both laughed.

“You’re an asshole.” Malik said between bites.

“That’s old news.”

“So why do I enjoy talking to you?”

“Because I’m a cut above the rest.” Bakura waved his knife in the air for a moment- to drive his point home.

Malik lifted his spoon from his agedashi tofu. “You’re also a fan of spooning.”

“And now I’m swooning over that pun.” Bakura grinned.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t say that spooning leads to forking.”

“Cutlery it out, Malik. We’re in public.”

They were laughing again. Bakura found it hard to finish his steak. He wasn’t as hungry as he should have been. He toyed with his food, but managed to eat all the meat before he got the check.

It was close to midnight by the time they draped their coats over the back of the couch and dropped down onto the cushions. Bakura curled on his side, laying his head in Malik’s lap and closing his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m full, warm, and comfy. Perfect time to sleep.”

“Oh don’t you dare. You have to stay up and keep me company.”

“You know where the remote is. The TV can keep you company.”

“Let’s play Donkey Kong.” Malik shook his legs to wake Bakura back up.

“Fine. Fine. But we’re not staying up until 2 AM again.”

“Why not? You don’t have to be anywhere in the morning.”

“Malik. I’m honest-to-gods tired. I don’t sit around at 2 AM and wait for you to knock on the door. I’m usually sleeping.”

“Demons don’t sleep at 2 AM.” Malik snorted, leaning to the ground and grabbing the second control pad.

Bakura stared at Malik’s hands, a frown on his face. He took the control pad and set it back on the floor.

“Bakura? What the fuck? I thought we were going to play?”

“Listen. I don’t know what you think, but I’m _not_ Zorc.” Bakura shook his head. “I’m not exactly the Thief King either. Not like I once was, but whatever I became in the Ring… I’m not that anymore, so if your kink is seducing a demon, go home, because I’m useless to you.”

Malik stared at him a moment in thought, then exploded into laughter.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Bakura snapped.

“Demon-fucking kink! That’s great! Are you really that out of answers?”

“Well you keep bringing it up!”

“Don’t you like acting like Mr. Cold and Heartless? I’m just playing along. Don’t worry, we can go back to spooning jokes if you really want to be cuddle-slut-shamed that badly.”

Bakura frowned.

“I didn’t think…. Bakura? Did I really hurt your feelings?” Malik stopped laughing and studied Bakura’s face.

“No.” Bakura jerked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Malik wrapped his arms around Bakura, leaning against his shoulder.

“I don’t care,” Bakura muttered.

“Quit acting so tough. It’s okay to hurt a little… in front of me. I won’t mock you about the demon thing anymore. I really am sorry Bakura.”

“How am I supposed to let my guard down around you if you’re still lying about why you really came over?”

“I told you. The solstice bothers me. I wanted company.” Malik snorted. “But not good company. I wanted yours.”

“You’re still hiding something.”

“How… do you know?” Malik shook his head, avoiding Bakura’s stare.

“I know, okay? We haven’t spent all that much time together since I’ve came back and you’ve moved to Domino, but when we do… I pay attention to you. I can tell something’s off.”

“It’s my birthday,” Malik whispered.

“Wait, your birthday?”

Malik nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have ordered cake at the restaurant, or, or something. I suck at these things, but I would have done something.”

“I… _hate it_ ,” Malik’s words cracked in his throat. He held his own shoulders, as if his wings were open wounds instead of scars. “Every year from the solstice- the darkest day- to my birthday, I… hate _existing_. I don’t like people to know because they try to force me to be happy. Why?” Malik looked up. “Because of a tradition I’m supposed to be happy? That’s what they said about being a tomb keeper. Fuck that.” He shook his head, golden hair waving around his face. “That’s why I don’t have on the kohl markings, the jewelry, anything that reminds me… of my father, or what happened, or… Bakura-”

Malik curled against Bakura’s chest. Bakura felt Malik tremble and stroked his hair.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Bakura spoke into Malik’s hair.

Malik rose up, staring at the time on his phone. “I’ll be okay. It’s a quarter past midnight. Christmas Eve, yeah?” Malik sighed, closing his eyes. “I can sleep now. I’m pretty exhausted after the last few days. The only time I could get any decent sleep was last night when I had you in my arms.” Malik flushed. It didn’t show, but Bakura knew because he knew Malik well enough to know. Malik nudged Bakura with his elbow. “Did you want to give that another try? I wouldn't call it my kink, but having you in my arms is definitely one of my favorite things.”

Bakura nodded, his throat dry and his breathing shallow. He snapped out of it in time to reach into his coat pocket and grab the bottle of oil. “We can go straight to bed if you want, but I found this bottle of massage oil in your room, so…”

“I- I forget I bought that.”

Now Bakura actually _could_ see the color in Malik’s face. It was dark, and rich, like velvet on his skin.

“If you don’t want me touching your back it’s no big deal, but I knew something was upsetting you, so I thought a massage might relax you.”

“ _Mmmmm… Bakura_.”

Malik climbed into Bakura’s lap. He tilted Bakura’s head back, pressing his tongue into Bakura’s mouth and kissing him like he was trying to condense a thousand, deep, passionate kisses into one meaningful moment. Bakura sighed through his nose, dissolving into Malik’s kiss. Malik tugged at Bakura’s collar, drawing his fingertips over the shadowy bruises that had formed down Bakura’s throat.

“Bakura? Baby, do you have a pocket knife?”

Bakura’s brain was fuzzy. Something about Malik's tone, and the sudden pet name, had his thoughts reeling, but he always had a pocket knife. He pulled it from his pocket and handed it handle-first to Malik, not caring why Malik wanted it.

“Thank you.” Malik kissed him again, and then put the knife to Bakura’s throat.

Bakura kept his gaze transfixed onto Malik’s. He wasn’t concerned with the knife, knew he wouldn’t be hurt. Malik slid it down Bakura’s chest and, after teasing Bakura a moment longer, worked it into the material, holding the cloth away from Bakura’s skin so that he didn’t cut Bakura as he sliced away Bakura’s sweater and under shirt. He slashed the belt as he went and clawed the ruined clothes off of Bakura’s body.

“We’re going to go to the bedroom.” Malik alternated between kissing and biting across Bakura’s chest, forcing waton shouts out of Bakura’s mouth. “And after you’re done massaging me.” He licked up Bakura’s throat, biting the center and then sucking a moment before finishing his statement. “I’m going to pound into your ass so hard that you won’t even remember your own name by the time I’m done with you.”

Although he was enjoying himself more than words could describe, Bakura imagined that if someone was taking pictures of his face at that moment, they could have recreated the confused math lady meme. Then all the equations coalesced, and Bakura jerked into a straight, seated position.  
  


 

“It was massages?” he shouted as if Malik was across the room instead of in his lap.

Malik replied by tugging Bakura’s zipper down and reaching behind his boxers to fondle his hard cock while nibbling against Bakura’s upper chest.

“Oh fuck yeah, Malik, that’s- wait, how the fuck was I supposed to guess that as your kink? Something involving your back was literally the last thing I’d pick. I would have guessed torture before back massages.”

“Bakura, I’m really turned on right now. Stop saying stupid things and be more productive with your mouth.”

“Fuck it. Fine.”

Bakura decided they could argue later. He slipped his hands below Malik’s shirt, and rubbed circles into Malik’s back. Malik threw his head back and called out, his hips circling as he grinded against Bakura’s body. _Fuck_. Bakura exhaled an excited huff of breath at Malik’s reaction.

“Go lay down.” Bakura, desperate to get started, bucked his hips up to get Malik to stand.

Bakura struggled out of his pants and boxers and chased Malik down the hall, tripping over Malik’s pants on his way. He stumbled, but caught himself, and when he saw Malik laying on his stomach on the bed his heart stopped. The lights brought out the warm, sandy tones of Malik’s skin. The mattress hugged the curves of Malik’s body, accentuating how lithe and sculpted he was. Bakura swallowed and padded across the room in a daze. He almost felt out-of-body by the time he reached the bed, a spirit hovering over Malik and admiring how perfect he looked.

“It’s okay.” Malik wiggled a little, visibly excited. “You can touch me anywhere you want. I wouldn’t have suggested the game otherwise.”

“You came over because you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want anyone to force you into celebrating your birthday, right?” Bakura knelt on the bed beside Malik, warming the honey-colored oil in his hands.

“Yes.”

“And you brought up the game because you wanted a backrub?”

“My back hurts more this time of year. I know it’s psychosomatic, but I can’t help it, and I didn’t like the thought of anyone else touching me, either.”

“Why me, though?” Bakura asked.

“I don’t know.” Malik smiled as if he did know. “Like you said earlier, we haven’t hung out much since we both came back to Domino, but each time we have… I laugh the most when I’m with you, so I guess that’s why you're the one I instinctually came to for comfort.”

Bakura pressed his slick, warm hands against Malik’s shoulder blades, making Malik sigh. Bakura nuzzled Malik’s hair away so he could kiss the nape of Malik’s neck.

“Okay, but next December, let’s go somewhere warmer? I was freezing my ass off without my jacket.”

“Well why didn’t you just take your jacket back?” Malik glanced up over his shoulder.

“Because I didn’t want you to be cold, dumbass.”

“Dammit, Bakura.” Malik sighed again, relaxing beneath Bakura’s fingers as he started gliding them up and down Malik’s back. “That’s exactly the sort of thing that makes me trust you enough to let you touch my back when anyone else would get a knife in their gut for even thinking about it.”

“Let’s face it, Malik. I’m the best.”

“The best annoyance, sure.” Malik snorted.

“No.” Bakura bite his bottom lip to pin his smile down, but it stretched out across his face regardless. “The best boyfriend.”

“Ha! Let’s see how good you are at massages before we start calling each other- _gods, Bakura!_ You _are_ the best!” Malik moaned as Bakura pressed his fingers up Malik’s back in earnest.

Bakura chuckled, pleased with the reaction. He’d wanted to touch Malik for so long that getting to knead his entire oil-anointed body was his fantasies unfolding from his imagination and becoming real before his eyes and fingertips. With no end goal in mind, he worked his way up toward Malik’s neck, massaging right below the base of his skull. Malik groaned as Bakura took his time working his fingers in circles up and down Malik’s neck.

He spread out his touch across Malik’s shoulders, using his thumbs to draw over the feathers before pushing in crescent-shaped motions to work the knots out of the muscles below the hateful scars. He was slow with each section, enjoying himself as Malik’s skin warmed below his fingers. Malik curled and uncurled his toes, curled and uncurled his fingers into the blanket below them. He pressed his forehead against the mattress and squirmed. Bakura swung his legs so that he sat straddled ontop of Malik.

“Stay still.”

“Fuck you,” Malik’s voice was rough and he breathed heavily.

“Not until I’m done with you.” Bakura leaned over, brushing his nose up Malik’s spine.

Malik purred and Bakura walked his fingers down Malik’s lateral back muscles. He crawled them back up to the area below Malik’s shoulders and then returned to broad strokes of his palms and spiraling motions with his fingers.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” Malik moaned after asking the question.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” Bakura laughed.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s fun. You… you’re beautiful. All of you.”

And he was going to touch all of Malik. He added another layer of oil and dug his palms into the center of Malik’s back. He could almost feel the _heka_ simmering just below Malik’s skin. Bakura rested his hands below Malik’s shoulder blades.

“Inhale.”

Malik sucked in a deep breath, his back rose below Bakura’s palms.

“Now exhale.”

Malik did as Bakura said, and as he blew the air out of his mouth, Bakura pressed in and up. Several cracks sounded in rapid succession, and Malik grunted.

“Damn.”

“Feel good?” Bakura grinned.

“Yeah. Where’d you learn to do that?”

“The energy felt bad there.” Bakura spoke more to himself than to Malik, realizing he knew what areas bothered Malik the most based on the way the energy flowed below his skin.

“Energy?” Malik glanced over his shoulder.

“I can feel the _heka_ within you.”

“Even without the Ring?”

“The Ring. Damn, the modern world is lazy. There was magic long before the Items.” Bakura scoffed.

“This massage certainly feels magical.”

“Do I get extra kink points for that?” Bakura was still grinning.

He reached Malik’s lower back. Bakura used his forearms and elbows. He rolled his knee into Malik’s tailbone, anything that felt like it might untangle the angry buzz below Malik’s skin until it felt more like the thrum of a harp instead of a nest of hornets.

“Bakura…” Malik all but sang the name. His body sank heavily into the mattress as Malik became so relaxed he was practically deadweight.

Bakura used his thumbs again to ease up Malik’s hips.

“Hmmm-mmmm, right there. I’m going to be working those hard pretty soon.”

Bakura licked his lips, digging in deeper. He didn’t stop at Malik’s back. He kneaded his way down Malik’s left arm and then his right, teased Malik’s ass, and then slipped down to his hamstrings, his calves, his ankles.

“Something you can do to feet. I’m so stupid.” Bakura shook his head as he worked on the top of Malik’s left foot.

“I practically gave it to you. Should I flip over?”

“Only if it won’t bother your back.”

Malik rolled onto his side instead and Bakura focused on the arch of Malik’s top foot. He gave Malik’s leg a quick tug, hearing the pop in the coinciding hip and Malik’s gasp. When he finished, Malik changed sides, and he popped Malik’s other hip before going back to his foot. He pinched at the side, working his way down again and then palming Malik’s heel.

“If I had a small ball I could get your feet better.”

“I’ll buy one. Anything else?”

“I’ll do a little research.”

“So you plan on doing this again?” The question was sultry, and Bakura noticed that Malik’s cock was hard and twitching.

“You could probably talk me into it. With a little motivation.” Bakura crawled up halfway toward Malik’s body. He scooped his tongue up Malik’s shaft, licking away a pearl of precum at Malik’s tip.

Malik made a guttural, savage noise. Springing up, he tackled Bakura against the mattress and attacked Bakura’s jaw with rough kisses. Bakura hitched his hips, also hard from getting his fill of touching Malik’s body.

“Do you mind the bruises?” Malik asked as he fingered the marks that bundled along Bakura’s neck like clusters of hyacinth.

“You mean my victory trophies?” Bakura’s nose scrunched up in a grin. “I’m going to wear tank tops out in the snow just to show them off.”

“You would.” Malik bit just above Bakura’s right nipple.

“Fuck.” Bakua tilted his head back, eyes lidding. The lights around him blurred and the sensations bombarding his body overwhelmed him, muting all his other senses, although he was mildly aware of the scent of frankincense, lavender, and almond from the massage oil.

Malik dropped down to Bakura’s thighs, biting and sucking. Bakura bucked his hips in a slow rhythm, needing Malik more and more. The heat and wetness of Malik’s mouth swallowed Bakura’s sack and his eyes lost the ability to stay open. Even with his lids shut, Bakura could tell the lights were on. Heat, wetness, light, scents, Malik, Malik, Malik, it was everything the Ring was not. All the _touch,_ all the _sensation,_ he’d been craving being lavished onto his senses and Bakura was moaning loud enough that his voice grew hoarse.

“We don’t have lube.”

“I have some water-based stuff for toys. It’ll do.” Bakura rolled off of the bed and dug through his closet until he found the half-used bottle. He tossed it to Malik who caught it in one hand.

“You _know_ it’ll work, or are you just being nonchalant?”

Bakura answered by leaping back onto the bed and kissing Malik. That was enough of an answer as Malik slicked his fingers and searched between Bakura’s legs until he found Bakura’s asshole. Bakura mewled the moment Malik pushed inside of him. He flung his arms around Malik’s neck and leaned his forehead against Malik’s shoulder. In a fit of euphoria, Bakura bit Malik’s neck in return.

“ _Ah_!” Malik gasped and shuddered in Bakura’s arms. “Not where it’ll show.”

“Won’t show here if you wear your gold.”

“Okay.” Malik chuckled.

Bakura bit several times. The harder Malik pushed inside him with his fingers, the harder Bakura bit. After a moment, he sealed his lips around Malik’s skin and sucked. Malik’s moans grew deeper, huskier, like gravel, so Bakura switched to kissing and sucking since that seemed to be what Malik enjoyed more.

Malik shoved Bakura into the mattress again, slamming his wrists up over his head and staring in a way that made Bakura’s stomach feel like it was free falling even as he stayed pinned against the bed.

“I’ve been wanting this.” Malik wrenched one of Bakura’s hands to his mouth so he could suck on the tip of Bakura’s pointer finger. “Ever since I mentioned the game, I’ve been thinking about this.”

Bakura spread his legs into a wide V with his legs lifted and his knees bent. Malik released him and Bakura held the back of his thighs to keep his legs high and wide. Malik rested his own hands on Bakura’s knees as he pressed against Bakura’s lube-slick asshole.

“Hurry up and do it,” Bakura’s whisper sounded harsh in his own ears. His stomach looped in anticipation before Malik applied any pressure.

Malik arched forward. Bakura screamed at the immediate rush of heat shooting up his body. Malik pulled out and pierced him again. Bakura’s nails dug into the back of his thighs. His hair tickled his face, but he couldn’t bother pushing it away.

“More lube?” Malik asked.

Bakura nodded. He would have nodded to anything at that moment. He was too lost in the way Malik felt inside him to pay attention, but he did enjoy the jolt of cold splashing against his skin. Malik slid in again.

“F-fuck.” Bakura bit the inside of his cheek. “More!”

“When I’m ready.” Malik’s breath came out in a whoosh. He eased in and out, huge and powerful like an ocean wave crashing against a shore and then dragging away.

Bakura clenched his muscles, allowing them to cling to Malik’s width. Malik lulled in and out at a steady tempo. Each time he sheathed himself into Bakura’s body, Bakura’s breath huffed out. Malik released Bakura’s knees, dropping lower and yanking Bakura’s hair again.

“Do you like this?” He asked.

“ _Nnnngh!_ ”

Bakura couldn’t speak. The grip in his hair felt magnificent. Each thrust was the wrath of Ra striking Bakura’s blasphemous soul. He bucked against Malik’s thrusts, bowed his back, and begged for more by screaming and cursing and squeezing Malik between his thighs.

“More! More! More! Godsdammit, more!” He demanded after a few minutes when he remembered how to form words in his mouth instead of pleasured screams.

Malik tilted Bakura’s head to the side and dug his teeth into Bakura’s collarbone as he swayed harder into Bakura’s body. Malik stomach rubbed Bakura’s cock and he felt the pressure in his belly quiver, already desperate to be released. But Bakura thought _just a little more, just a little more, just a little more_ , and allowed Malik to drive deeper into him as he ached for more. He never tired of their back and forth, another conversation for them to delve into as deeply as all their other conversations. All their passion, all their rough edges, all spoken out with thrust after thrust after thrust.

Bakura wrapped his legs around Malik’s waist. Malik seized his wrists again and restrained Bakura again. Bakura defied the imprisonment by rising his pelvis up, grinding against Malik’s stomach until his marble-white cock leaked and the tip swelled red-violet with want.

“Make me come.” Bakura writhed against Malik’s hold.

“How much do you want it?” Malik sneered as he licked the shell of Bakura’s ear, refusing to release Bakura’s wrists.

He wanted it enough to break free out of Malik’s grip so he could grab his own cock; he wanted it enough to curl his toes as he shuffled his hand up and down along his shaft; he wanted it enough to roar as the pleasure soared up from within him. A few more strokes, a few more breaths, and he was coming, coming, coming. Then, all at once, he lay limp against the mattress, sated.

He kept one leg hooked around Malik to give Malik room to thrust. Malik was bent upward like a cobra, all golden and sweat-jeweled. The bedroom lights flashed off of the beads of sweat and glimmered in Malik’s pale hair.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” Bakura murmured, half conscious, but still enjoying the swooping, exhilarating feeling of Malik inside of him.

“This feels so good!” Malik cried out to the ceiling. “So good! So good! Bakura I’m going to come!”

Bakura hiked up, pulsing his pelvic muscles to help Malik over the edge. Malik’s face wrinkled and Bakura’s heart fluttered at the sight. When Malik finished- Bakura’s name still echoing off of the walls- Malik stayed hovering over Bakura, gasping, sweating, smiling with a love-struck glint in his eyes.

“You’re so much trouble.” Bakura smiled up at him.

“Tease all you want, Bakura. I’m in too good of a mood to care.” Malik slipped out of Bakura’s body and settled next to him.

“Hey, stay here just a moment, okay?” Bakura kissed Malik’s temple, pushing sweat-damp strands of hair away from his face.

“Where are you going?” Malik muttered, also half-dozing from the effects of the afterglow.

“Going to grab a few things out of the bathroom.”

Bakura left and came back with a damp washcloth and a dry towel. He washed off Malik’s back from any sweat or excess oil, and then patted the skin dry.

“Why?” Malik asked as Bakura washed his own tummy and thighs before drying himself off.

“I’m a thief. I may steal, but I know what treasure is worth, and I take care of it once I have it in my hands,” Bakura said.

He also brought lotion and warmed it in his hands before applying a light layer to Malik’s scars.

“What can I do? For you?” Malik pushed up on his forearms.

“There’s one thing.” Bakura bit the inside of his cheek again as he rubbed the last of the lotion into Malik’s skin.

“What’s that?”

Bakura pulled the blanket from beneath Malik and cocooned them within it, making sure his back was pressed against Malik’s chest. When Malik’s arms coiled around him, Bakura exhaled and relaxed.

“This is one of my favorite things, too,” he confessed to Malik.

“Bakura?”

“Hmmm?”

“Thanks.” Malik leaned over so he could dote soft kisses over some of the hickies on Bakura’s collar.

“For… cuddling?” Bakura was distracted because of the kisses. They tickled and he held his breath to prevent himself from giggling like a love-sick fool.

“For the last three days.”

“You know what this means?” Bakura smirked, although he grabbed the hand Malik had on his stomach so he could brush his fingers across Malik’s knuckles.

“I’m afraid to ask, but what?”

“I won your game.”

“You technically you never guessed correctly-”

“Don’t you technically me. Here I am naked in bed with you and still a little greasy between the legs- I won.”

“Yes, when you put it in terms of greasiness it sounds like a resounding victory.”

“I’m happy.” Bakura nudged back a little against Malik.

Malik sighed and squeezed Bakura closer to his chest. “We didn’t finish playing video games, so don’t expect me to leave anytime soon tomorrow morning.”

“It technically already is tomorrow morning.” Bakura glanced at the clock. “You managed to keep me awake until 2 AM after all.”

“That’s because I always get what I want.” Malik pinched Bakura’s ass.

Bakura gave Malik’s shin a playful kick with his heel. They muttered back and forth, mostly about games they wanted to play and trying to find any sort of food they could both agree on- on games, they were well matched, but their food preferences were a disaster.

Somewhere in the middle of an important chocolate vs. sour candy discussion, Bakura fell asleep. He awoke an hour before noon and snuck out of bed. Malik rolled onto his stomach, muttering something in his sleep and then hiding his face in his pillow. Bakura smiled, and watched Malik sleep for a moment, realized what he was doing, and then rushed to the kitchen.

He wanted bacon, a pile of it, and he figured if he got up and cooked breakfast before Malik woke up, he wouldn’t have to hear the constant bitching about the smell. He cooked eggs for both of them- learning last night that Malik didn’t mind them- and rice for Malik. He also made the coffee Malik had brought on his second visit. Once he had their breakfast ready, he balanced both plates and both coffee cups and carried them to the bedroom, deciding he’d rather eat in bed instead of the chilly kitchen.

Bakura stopped when he heard Malik speaking. At first he was curious, and when he realized Malik was on the phone, he decided to snoop, stepping beside the door and listening despite the burn in his fingers from the coffee cups.

“ _Yeah… I know… I know… I know…”_

From the tone of Malik’s voice, Bakura knew it was either Malik’s sister or Baldy on the phone. He was about to bust into the room and cause a scene to rescue Malik from whatever awkward conversation he was having but then Malik’s tone changed.

“ _Actually, I had a good day yesterday. I stayed over at Bakura’s and we went outside and played in the snow and he taught me how to make snow angels and a snowman and we got coffee afterwards. We also played video games and watched movies. After that, he took me out to dinner.”_

Bakura stood in the hallway, blinking and a little amazed with himself. They _had_ done all of that, and he hadn’t even known it was Malik’s birthday. It was simply easier to do things when he was with Malik. Bakura found himself _wanting_ to do stuff, and laugh, and make breakfast so they could sit under the blanket together and eat it in bed. Something _broke_ in Bakura at that moment- in a good way. Some sort of dam crashed, and Bakura felt a smile on his face. He popped into the room, deciding to save Malik from the phone call after all.

“Look, Malik, bacon. A plate heaping full of bacon. It’s all for you, too. Don’t worry I cooked enough to clog _all_ your arteries.”

Malik laughed and flipped Bakura off as he tried to listen to the voice on his cellphone.

“Actually, I’m still at Bakura’s and he made me breakfast in bed, so I’m going to let you go.” He winked at Bakura and took his coffee and plate of rice and eggs. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, Ishizu, I promise I’ll call back later today… Ishizu, my breakfast is getting cold… Okay, I will. I love you too, sister, goodbye.”

“Thought you needed to be saved from that.” Bakura settled down going straight for the plate of bacon in his lap.

“She worries. I guess she should sometimes.”

“You made me sound way too good in that phone call.”

“Maybe so, but it was worth hearing the shock and slight horror in her voice.”

Bakura snickered at the thought. “You should put her on speaker phone next time so I can hear.”

“Well, I have to call her later, so you’ll get the chance.” Malik hummed as he took a bite of food.

“It’s good?” Bakura asked, trying his own eggs.

“I’d say this breakfast is eggcellent.”

Bakura took a gulp of coffee to prevent choking. He hadn’t expected the pun that early in the morning.

“Shut the fuck up before I get down on one knee and propose.”


End file.
